


Anticipation

by eternalshiva



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition: Cullen x Fernweh Trevelyan [24]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Power Play, Sexually confident Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She counts the steps, the sound of his feet climbing up, and with every muffled thump, she’s biting her lower lip in different angles—even her hands are gripping the sheets in anticipation. She’s thinking about his promises; she’s thinking of the way his eyes heated when his lips had brushed the curve of her lobe, the way his teeth had nipped the shell of her ear. </p><p>He promised her, he promised…</p><p>(Explicit Art - NSFW - By Greendelle)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greendelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greendelle/gifts).



> Collab with Greendelle, this was her prompt that came up in conversation a few months ago. Female POV, Cullen is very comfortable with his sexuality in this point of the relationship. 
> 
> Thank you, perpetual159, for the beta.

   

[Greendelle on Tumblr](http://greendelle.tumblr.com/)

 

 

Fernweh is lying in his bed. The candles cast a soft glow throughout the room; they help ease her impatience, if only a little bit, as she waits for him. His soft linen sheets are wrapped around her naked body—keeping the chill at bay, but her skin still pebbles as if complaining, silent in her craving for his touch.

The men below speak softly, hurriedly. Cullen is very adamant that they can continue the reports tomorrow, and she smiles. She then laughs softly; she can hear the restraint in his voice. He wants his second to be gone, and quickly. He knows she is waiting patiently for him upstairs and he’s been delayed unexpectedly for far too long.

She hears the first door below close, the hinges whining momentarily before the lock clicks loudly. The sound of the remaining doors being shut and the locks slamming into place echo throughout his office. There’s the distinct sound of metal dropping to the stone floor and she knows he’s removing his gear. The lights below the floor of his bedroom dim slowly. She hears the soft sounds of his breath blowing out the candles and soon, she hears him grab the ladder.

She squeezes her thighs together, eager for _him_ , eager for his touch.

She counts the steps, the sound of his feet climbing up, and with every muffled thump, she’s biting her lower lip in different angles—even her hands are gripping the sheets in anticipation. She’s thinking about his promises; she’s thinking of the way his eyes heated when his lips had brushed the curve of her lobe, the way his teeth had nipped the shell of her ear.

_He promised her, he promised…_

She remembers the way he whispered at the war table that afternoon, once they were alone. His hand on her lower back had slid down her arse and he’d groaned when she allowed his fingers to slip between her thighs to touch her sex through her trousers.

_“It’s my turn tonight, isn’t?” he asks, a low murmur that makes her cheeks warm._

_She nods, feeling his smirk against her ear._

_“Do you have any rules in mind?” Fernweh peeks at him, smiling deviously._

_He nods slowly while his index follows the heat of her slit. He murmurs them in her ear, nibbling the lobe in-between each rule: “Be good and wait for me after dusk in my bed.” His breath is hot on her cooler skin—the scruff of his stubble making her shiver._

Her heart beats hard, the anticipation driving her a little mad, and her breath hitches when she sees him appear over the edge of the floor.

_Promises; he’s always good with his promises._

When he finally pulls himself over the edge, she’s glad to see he’s not wearing anything. He gives her a slow grin—the kind he knows makes her weak in the knees. He watches her from the other side of the room and she beckons him to come over with her index. She sits up, letting the sheet drift down her torso, exposing herself willingly.

He walks, slowly, and she’s watching his hips. Each muscle of his thighs flexing under his gait, he’s already half hard before he even reaches her, climbing from the foot of the bed. As he pushed the sheet up from her feet and above her knees, she leans back against his pillows, feeling flushed. His gaze locks on to hers. His hands are warm against her calves and he kisses her ankle. She can’t help but to gasp when she feels him nipping the bone with his teeth.

“Were you a _good_ little inquisitor?” he questions in a murmur. His lips barely touch her skin, but she feels each word being branded into her—each syllable is hot, burning.

“Did you do as I asked?”

He’s nipping at her with his teeth and Fernweh nods, gripping the sheets again. She wants to pant or moan, and even though he hasn’t done anything yet, she’s already breathless and wet with need.

“Show me,” he asks her gently.

She’s happy to comply. He pulls the sheet up and over her hips and she slowly opens her legs for him. She can see his gaze following the length of her thighs and it stops at their apex, appreciating the way her sex is glistening under the soft light of the room. He hums in approval, raising a brow when one of her hands loosens its grip on the linens, slide up her hips and past her pussy, her fingers spreading the folds for a moment while she seeks the hood of her clit; it’s slick, warm, and dark pink from her teasing all afternoon.

“You didn’t break the rule, did you?” His voice is like velvet, warm and comforting, and his hands are grasping the inside of her thighs as he pushes her legs further apart. He’s kneeling between her legs, hands slowly sliding up to her knees and down again while he watches her fingers caressing her sex until she pushes two inside herself, slowly.

“Well?” he asks her expectantly.

She can see a faint blush on his cheeks and—realizing how distracted she is—she has to, even if for a moment, replay his words in her head to determine what it is he’s questioning her about.

“No.” She bites her lower lip again, her hips rolling a little when she slides her fingers out. “I didn’t let myself cum.” She practically whimpers when she brushes her sensitive nub again; she’s been on edge for hours.

Cullen’s chuckle makes her smile and she feels his fingers grip her hips before he leans in and kisses her belly; his slow and sensual tongue twirls inside her belly button while one hand slips over her sex. He lets the tip of his index brush her clit, just _barely_ but enough for her to feel the pressure. Her hips buck when the pulse of her arousal flickers stronger with his light touches.

“Are you ready, Fernweh?” he whispers, his breath tickling her as his mouth hovers over her sex.

Her toes curl into the sheets when he lies down between her legs, gripping her hips to give himself purchase before he pulls her thigh over his shoulder. He kisses the inside of it, his gaze never leaving hers. He lightly rubs the stubble of his chin on her skin, just enough to capture her attention and all she can see is the orange glow of the candles illuminating him, the warmth of it mesmerising her.

“Yes.” She’s burning under his promises, under the anticipation, she’s sure of it.

He lets go of her thighs, sliding both of his hands over her hips, past her belly and on to her ribs hidden under the sheet—he’s scraping his nails all the way to her breasts to make her squirm. He cups them, one in each hand, making her nipples pebble before he pinches them slightly, making her arch into his touch.

She moans his name, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Ah- _ah_ …” He pinches her nipple in warning, hard, and she hisses at the subtle ache.

“You didn’t set the rules,” she whispers, squirming under his attention. She smirks at him when he blushes lightly, realising _his_ mistake.

“True,” he chuckles, breathlessly, “I got ahead of myself.”

He takes a breath, blowing it softly over her wet entrance. She shivers, biting her lower lip as his mouth brushes against her vaginal lips and sucks on the hooded nub for a moment. This makes her whimper. He looks up, locking his gaze on hers and kisses the inside of her thigh again; she notices how his lips are glistening with her arousal—her thighs tremble for a second.

“On with it, then?” She hears him murmur, and she nods quickly, eagerly, while his tongue licks the skin of her thigh.

“There’s only one,” she feels his teeth nip at her; it makes a shiver run through her, “you can’t close your eyes longer than ten seconds.”

She catches his gaze, she biting her lower lip with need.

“Ten sec-” she swallows the words when he slips a finger inside her, pumping her slowly. She moans, but her eyes don’t flutter shut like she wants them to. He raises a brow, and eventually lets out a breathy chuckle. She can feel his touch tremble just a little bit—his own lust becoming more and more evident.

“Yes.” His voice is low, predatory, as she watches him seal his mouth over her sex.

She feels him suck on her clit—his gaze never leaving her—and she can feel his smirk between each flick of his tongue. She moans, a long and dirty sound from the depth of her chest, and she knows it excites him. The moan has the desired effect; she sees him close his eyes, frowning at his pleasure, hips rolling against the bedding, and he lets out a groan.

“Wh-what happens if I…” she moans when his tongue rubs her clit yet again, long and slow.

Though her question dies in her lips, he understands perfectly.

“This happens.” He sits up, licking his lower lip, and grabs his erection in one palm. He sighs with a hint of pleasure, and she grips the sheets, her toes curling again as he thumbs the crown of his head, pressing against the opening and forcing a drip of liquid out. She loves to watch—she knows he knows this. She loves to come with him that way.

“You watch me pleasure myself, and…” his voice drops down, almost whispering, “ _you_ can’t do anything about it.”

“Wh-what?” She almost sounds indignant at the mere suggestion.

He strokes himself again, his eyes closing as his fingers work carefully. He circles the head with his index and thumb, squeezing the shaft while he moves up and down, increasing the speed. He lets out a soft moan that makes Fernweh squirm. This… _this_ was inhumane. She shoots him the dirtiest glare she can muster.

He lets go of himself quickly, forgetting himself in the pleasure. He’s flushed and breathing heavy. She can see his cock twitch and he leans forward, crawling up her body with his hands on either side of her. He lowers his face towards hers, brushing his lips teasingly—she can smell her arousal on his face and she lets out a soft needful moan.

“Are we clear on the rules, Fernweh?”

He dips his hips and she feels the tip of his head against her hood and down her slit, rubbing her. She resists rolling her hips, barely, but he doesn’t stop; he keeps the shallow rolls of his hips, rubbing the blunt edge of his cock against her labia. Her heartbeat is deafening; she’s sure it’s going to burst from her chest.

“Yes, I’m clear,” she whispers hurriedly and he captures her lips in a searing kiss, briefly closing her eyes.

They both take in a deep breath through the nose as he swipes his tongue across her lower lip and she lets him in, moaning in relief. He rolls his hips, the head finding her clit, and he gives her short, shallow thrusts that hit her bundle teasingly. She gasps sharply when his cock slides along her slit, as if refusing to enter, igniting sharp tingles of arousal that fire between her legs with each movement. Her fingernails dig into his arms, but her gaze is locked with his. Her eyebrows are knitted together as he teases her further and Cullen only smiles at her, his eyes warm and loving. He kisses her again, murmuring:“Do you like that?” against her lips and she nods, panting.

He spreads his thighs to steady his weight above hers and rolls his hips hard, entering her in one swift motion right up to the hilt of his pelvis. She squeezes around him, gripping his length with her warmth; she can feel herself twitching around his shaft. She’s already so close to coming, it won’t take much to set her over the edge. He moans her name, and her eyes roll back with pleasure when he thrusts hard into her a few times before pulling out completely, leaving her wanting for more.

“ _Cullen_ ,” she whispers impatiently, feeling a bit desperate as he kisses down her neck, leaving a wet trail with his tongue. He brings his hands to her body, grasping her sides and his nails dig into her hips, embedding themselves there and leaving crescent moon engravings on her skin. He kisses the center of her chest with a wide open mouth, nips the skin over her heart, and moves from one breast to the next, pebbling the nipple with the warm swirl of his tongue. She slips her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, tangling her fingers into his hair.

Her hips curl up, trying to find purchase on his body, but he keeps himself at bay, teasing her further still when the stubble from his chin rubs down her skin to her ribs. He gives her soft, tender kisses, one hand sliding down her belly and over her sex, his middle finger finding her nub and rubbing her slowly. Fernweh whimpers, closing her eyes when the sensation of her climax building overwhelms her, but she hears him hum, disapproving. He lets go, her eyes snap open, and she glares at him. Cullen raises a brow at her and smirks.

“It wasn’t ten seconds,” she argues, between breaths, and he gives a small nod, agreeing. He dips his head down towards her sex; his breath brushes her swollen labia, and he pulls her legs over his shoulders.

“Just a warning,” he murmurs before sealing his mouth over her clit and he sucks, hard. Her back arches and her thighs squeeze around his head. He groans—tongue licking her long and languid, circling her nub in a slow and deliberate pattern.

Her gaze is locked on his and her lips are pulled back in a wordless hiss; the coil in her belly is building with each slow torturous pass of his tongue. He closed his eyes, humming into her, the vibration of his voice making her hips twitch with the tremble of her pleasure and she can’t catch her breath. His hands move away from her belly, pressing his nails down into the skin as he slips them under her, grabbing her arse to pull her even closer to him.

He tastes her, and she moans, barely able to keep her eyes open when he focuses on her clit again. He makes slow, steady circles with the flat of his tongue, and then he increases the pressure, gently, relentless with his dedication. She can feel her nub pulsing, twitching inside the hood, and she lets out a _squeal_ —a groan, some sort of noise that ignites his efforts. Her fingers dig into his hair and she rolls her hips against his mouth, unable to stop herself. She’s losing herself into the pulses he’s creating—his fingers digging hard into her flesh—and the ecstasy of it all is driving her mad. She can feel her muscles tightening, the coil in her getting ready to unfurl. She’s _so_ close… she’s shaking.

He pulls away, sitting up to lean on his knees and the ball of his toes.

“W-wh-” She blinks at him. With her hips jerking at the sudden lack of contact, she wants to scream at him. She’s gripping the sheets, her thighs squeezing together to get the sensation he left under control.

“You closed your eyes,” he says.

She watches him grab his erection; it twitches at his touch and he doesn’t holds back the shudder it gives him. Fernweh can see the slick of his precum on the head; his shaft is red from his rubbing on the cot in his excitement of pleasuring her. He groans, his head rolling back as he pumps himself, and she watches him, her body burning with want. She can see each muscle becoming taunt, his hips jerking slightly as his hand moves up and down, slow then fast—there’s flush forming across his chest and crawling up his neck as he gets closer to his own release and Fernweh can’t _stand it_ anymore.

“It w-wasn’t…!” she almost shouts it, earning a grin from her lover. He leans down, still stroking himself, but he’s crawling up her body, nipping at her lips and she’s sure her skin is on fire. Everywhere he touches, even with just his gaze, gives her goosebumps.

“Should I make an exception, Inquisitor?” he asks her, his voice thick with lust.

She wants to touch him, touch herself; she’s biting her lip and she considers begging—she wants to cave.

She does. “Fuck me already, Cullen.”

She glares when he chuckles, but he kisses her, hard and fast—tongues sliding against each other—and she pulls him down against her body, forcing him to let go of his erection. She wraps her legs around his waist and he complies with her urging. His cock slides against her entrance and slips between her folds and into her; she feels full with him—he wants to go slow, but she’s digging her feet into his arse, pulling herself to him, rejecting the tempo he wants to set.

He groans. She’s whispering, “ _fuck_ me, Cullen, fuck me…” under her breath and it’s too much, even for him. She feels his arms slip under her back, his hands tense, gripping her shoulders and he _fucks_ her, hard. The bed groans under them; she can hear their flesh slapping together, laced between her begging and his grunts.

They _rut_ —need taking over their own personal pleasure—and Fernweh comes undone, unfurls around him, her pleasure so intense she can’t even make a sound. All she can do is dig her nails into his back as she rides the wave, her breath caught in her throat while he still moves between her legs relentlessly.

He hisses at the pain in his back, hips moving faster as she finds her voice again, moaning, panting, and she melts against him while he finally reaches his own release and collapses against her, sweat beading down his temples and back. She hums, fingers trailing down his back, satisfied, and he can barely catch his breath. He lies still, kissing her shoulder and neck, and she relishes the feel of him still inside her. She can feel him smiling against her shoulders before trying to move. She denies him, tensing up to keep him there.

“You need to work on that,” she sighs, smiling at him when he finally looks up, his gaze begging to be released so he can get comfortable. She complies, sort of, keeping their legs tangled as he reaches for the goblet of water on his nightstand, taking a sip and then offering it to Fernweh. She gladly takes it, feeling parched as she sips.

“Work on what, if I may ask?” He raises a brow, curious, placing the goblet back in its place.

“The consequence.” She smiles at him lazily; sleep is already teasing her.

“I thought about it.” He sits up, looking for the missing blankets. They’re piled onto the floor near her clothes that she had discarded earlier when she crawled into his bed to wait for him.

“Thinking and doing are two different things, Cullen,” she teases while he tucks himself around her, pulling her close to his chest under the covers.

“Well,” she feels him nodding, “thinking about me all day seems to have worked in my favour, no?” He sighs, kissing her temple before laying his head on the pillow; he tucks her head under his chin, the exhaustion of the day seemingly catching up to him.

Fernweh blinked, and for once, the Herald of Andraste was stumped into silence.

 

by greendelle


End file.
